No Country For Old Mascots
by Firebrat
Summary: Nothing to do with the movie, just the best title I could come up with in 5 minutes. This is what I think of when I play Pacman. It's my first fic, so please be gentle! Rated T for adult themes, but nothing too explicit.


** No Country For Old Mascots**

_My first fanfic. Didn't really know what to write about, so I spat this out in an hour or so. I did check for errors, but sorry for any I've missed. Not to be taken too seriously, obviously, and it's not very original, but hey - it's short!_

**  
**

She was beautiful. She was beyond beautiful. Beautiful was a word used to describe lesser things - things so far below her, they were invisible. There was no-one else like her in his dark little universe. His heart bled to think about her, just casting her image into his mind made his very soul shudder with emotions so heavy, knocked him off his invisible feet.

She was his sunflower...she was his sun! A bright yellow orb that brightened up his life. How dark his life would be without her...how he would miss those black button eyes, those ruby red lips and that blood red bow she always wore. What would he say to their child when he asked where mommy was?

The empty room gave him no answers. Searching himself, he thought back to what had happened earlier that evening.

He had come home early from his job at the pill factory - they'd let him go. His years of service had meant nothing to them, and they had cast him out without a second thought.

"I'm sorry," his manager - a sneering executive type with bad glasses - had said, "you've been caught helping yourself to the products on more than one occasion. We let it slide the first time, but we just can't keep you on any more. You understand, right?"

He hadn't understood. There were people much less capable than him. So what if he stole a few pills now and then? He still did his share of the work. Those damn ghosts still had a job, though they never lifted a finger, never so much as picked up a single dropped tablet. He sighed to himself as he though about the state of the world today, how hard working yellow people were being driven out by the lazy coloured folk - the pinks, blues, reds and oranges. It was probably one of them who ratted him out. Probably that god damn Inky, who kept staring at him during cigarette breaks.

He'd glided up the stairs with a low, sorrowful "waka waka waka", stopping on the landing to sigh heavily before pushing open the bedroom door. He was so startled by what he saw, that for a while he could only stare in dismay.

"Oh my god!" his lady love yelled in surprise, "...it's...it's not what it looks like!"

His jaw dropped open as he stared at the bed, casting his gaze from his wife to the bright blue form next to her...those giant eyes wide with shock, those translucent blue tentacles draped all over her sublime curves. As her stared at them, his shock began to subside, and a deep rage started to crawl into his heart. This was the last thing he needed. The bitter icing on a poison cake. With a menacing growl, he stared at the cyan intruder and muttered "...Inky!"

"l-look man..." Inky sputtered, "...I...I can explain!"

"INKY!" Pacman screamed. He could say nothing else. That single word had become the name for everything that was wrong with his life, all the anger that had built up over his years of back-breaking labour and his joyless marriage. He quivered in anger, his breathing becoming ragged grunts of air. Without a word, he fumbled with the top drawer of his chest of drawers, keeping his eye on his captive audience the whole time. As Inky blinked in terror, Pacman fumbled among various pill boxes for a brief moment, and triumphantly produced a single large, glowing white pill.

"...Jesus..." Inky shuddered, "...now don't do anything crazy, man...I'm sorry!"

"I'M SORRY!" Pacman laughed maniacally, but said nothing more. He popped the power pill into his mouth, savouring the rush of energy it gave him, and charged towards the cowering Inky with a furious, shrill "WAKA-WAKA-WAKA-WAKA-WAKA!" The ghost's natural bright cyan faded to a pale dark blue as he threw his tendrils up, too terrified to even move. Within an instant, he was gone, leaving nothing behind but the brief sound of a sickening, crunching, "CHOMP!"

"Pac..." Mrs Pacman stared at her outraged husband in numb disbelief, "...what the hell have you done? Oh, my god oh my god..." but her voice trailed off when she realised that he wasn't finished. His mad, beady eyes turned to stare at her, his huge mouth twisting into a psychotic grin. She screamed, and jumped up to run - but under the effects of the power pill, he was much stronger and faster than her...

A distant siren shook him out of his recollections...the police. The neighbours must have heard the screams and called 911. He stared at the empty room, sweeping his gaze over it, finally coming to rest on the bedside table. There lay the bright red bow that belonged to the woman he had loved. It was all he had left of her. As he looked at it, his vision blurred and slow tears started trickling down his face.

He couldn't go to prison. He wasn't strong enough for that, he didn't have enough left in him to face it. The police would look after little Pac Junior, make sure that he had a decent home with a loving family - something better than what this one had become.

"I'm...sorry..." he sobbed weakly. The sirens were louder now, closer. Gently, he placed his wife's bow back on the table, straight and upright. He stared at at for a moment longer, then sighed and stood. With supreme effort, he opened his mouth as far as it would go, and then forced it wider. With a crack, it yielded and opened further...his body shrank, painfully consuming itself. His shape dwindled until there was nothing left, and with a pathetic little "blip" and a blink, he disappeared.

The room was now silent and empty. Outside, the sirens continued their blaring. Inside the house, a baby cried, startled by all the commotion, but his parents were unable to comfort him.

**The End**


End file.
